


Changing Tides

by Simara



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Mostly Gen, Past Harvey Dent/Edward Nygma - Freeform, Redemption, Referenced canonical character death, Scriddler, Temporary Amnesia, The Rogues being pretty decent Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: Five times Edward Nygma was told to give up on crime and that one time he almost did.





	Changing Tides

**Changing Tides**

 

**1.**

Oswald had been one of the first rogues to take him seriously and they had soon evolved from lucrative business partners to actual friends. Although most people assumed that it was a mere act (both had a flair for the dramatic, after all), there was an honest enjoyment of each others company. One fine evening, after settling some high-stakes business at the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald started a conversation that took the Riddler by surprise.

“Have you ever killed someone, Edward?” The question was _so_ unexpected, in fact, that Edward almost chocked on his martini.

“Of course I have”, he said without meaning it. “Don’t insult me, my friend.” He toasted Oswald with a smile. “To crime.” Oswald smiled half-heartedly.

“To crime.” They both took a sip. Edward didn’t like the way Oswald was looking at him.

“Do you have something on your mind, old friend?”

“May I give you a piece of unwanted advice?” Edward paused.

“I’m listening.”

“You’re still young, Edward. This has been little more then a game to you. No, let me finish, my friend. I do not mean to sound condescending. All I’m saying is that there are lines you haven’t crossed yet and that you should consider carefully if this is a path you want to commit to.” Edward couldn’t help be touched by that assertion but he overplayed it with an easygoing laugh.

“Oswald, Oswald, my dear. I assure you that I am very well able to make my own decisions. Now, riddle me this: I make great man greater and weak man fall, I can build empires from nothing at all – What am I?” Oswald shook his head with a sigh.

“I don’t know. Indulge me.” Edward’s lips curled into a smile.

“Ambition, Oswald. And I've got too much of it to be discouraged so quickly.”

 

**2.**

“C’mon, Bats! Say it!” Edward beamed up at him, basically bouncing on his toes. The Batman growled.

“Fine.” It seemed to pain him physically which only served to make Edward even giddier. "Thank you.”

“See! That wasn’t so hard, was it now? You would have been lost without me! Putting aside your pride and asking your local genius for help is nothing to be ashamed of.” He grinned self-righteously and halve expected to get smacked for his efforts. The Bat just looked at him, though, and shook his head lightly.

“You could have been a good detective.” It took Edward aback, but he caught himself soon enough.

“Of course I would. But it would be a very dull career indeed – And such a waste of my intellect, let alone good looks.” He winked at the Bat, although he felt rather less flirty then usual. The vigilante didn’t bother to respond. He started heading back to the Batmobile, Edward in tow.

“Oh come on, you big old spoil sport! You know I wouldn’t cut a good figure in uniform.” The Batman stopped so abruptly that Edward walked face first into his – admittedly very broad and muscular – back. He was just about to complain about said collision when the Bat decided to speak up:

“You dare pretend that doing good, for once, would be a waste of your time despite the fact that you’ve spend the last – what? – ten years? – being beaten up and thrown away to rot. Doesn’t sound too productive or clever to me.”

“Now, listen-“ Edward spat back but was rudely interrupted.

“No, you listen, for once in your life!” He had underestimated the Bat’s anger and flinched at the sudden outburst. Edward had always hated people yelling at him; it brought back just the kind of memories he tried to keep buried. So he kept quiet to keep his voice from wavering and fixed his eye’s on the Bat’s masked face. Something inside him was fuming but he didn’t dare let it boil to the surface. They stared at each other for a long time. When the vigilante finally spoke his voice had softened, sounded almost tired. “You could still do good. Think about it, Nygma.” There was nothing he wanted to think about less.

 

**3.**

“Do you have a death wish? Put that down!” Jonathan snatched the box from the burly henchman’s hands and placed it safely on the ground.

“Have you ever tried to mix chloramine and ammonium hydroxide?" The man seemed to shrink several inches as Jonathan hovered over him, snarling. He muttered something inaudible in reply and Jonathan cocked his head. “Speak up, will you?”

“I said: No, Professor Crane, I haven’t”, the man stuttered. Jonathan touched the bridge of his nose.

“Well, if you don’t want to concur a gas that’ll burn right through your eyes and internal organs – if it doesn’t explode first, that is – you’d better take a little more care of how you’re handling my possessions in the future.” The henchman lowered his eyes like a schoolboy.

“Yes, Professor Crane.” Edward watched in mild amusement as Jonathan took the time to give that poor bastard a Chemistry 101 lecture. A full ten minutes later, Jonathan took a seat next to Edward. Looking a little exhausted but grimly pleased with himself.

“You’d think they’d teach these things in school but in all those years I’ve never hired a single one who had a basic understanding of – anything, really.” Edward smirked.

“That’s probably why you savour me and my intellect. I’m your oasis in this wasteland.” Jonathan quirked an eyebrow.

“Before we met, your knowledge of chemistry amounted to little more then ‘don’t touch it or it will go boom’.”

“Don’t insult me. It took me less then a week to fill the gaps well enough to catch up to your years of study.” Edward ignored Jonathan’s sceptical look and continued: “Also, it’s almost endearing how passionate you become whenever there’s a chance to lecture someone.” Jonathan shrugged.

“I might just be getting too old for this, to be completely honest with you. If I have to change hideouts one more time I might throttle someone.” A chill ran down Edward’s spine. That answer was too raw, too honest and he did not know if he really wanted Jonathan to be comfortable enough around him to say such things.

“You should just give up the horror trip and go back into teaching, then.” It was supposed to be a quip, something to lighten the mood, but Jonathan’s eyes darkened a little as Edward said it.

“It’s a little too late for that now, I’d think. There’s no way I’d ever be allowed to teach again. I’m too far gone by now, anyway.” Edward blinked.

“Wow. That’s bleak. For a psychiatrist, you’re really bad at pep-talks.” Jonathan gave him an intense look.

“You’re a different case all-together. If you wanted to, you could redeem yourself like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“If you where willing to commit-“

“Well”, Edward interrupted, getting up and busying himself with something, anything. “Too bad I don’t have an interest in that, then.”

“You’d be happy, Edward. Trust me. All the things you’re reaching for, all the attention and appreciation you seek could be yours if you dared to-“

“Don’t.” Edward hissed. “Or I’ll break something.”

 

**4.**

Edward looked at him with obvious distaste.

“I don’t mean to unsettle you”, he said and gestured vaguely at Harvey, “but something horrible happened to your face.” Harvey merely smiled. He was disturbingly handsome with all this facial reconstruction but it didn’t look quite right to Edward. He’d only ever known Harvey after the accident and he'd quickly grown quite used to the scars.

“It’s good to see you, Eddie.” Edward scoffed.

“Tell me something I don’t know already.” He tapped his fingers against the metal table in order to fight the urge to reach out and touch Harvey’s new face. Edward wondered if Harvey was using makeup to hide the remaining scars. There was no way the procedure managed to rebuild his skin this cleanly. Edward jerked backwards as Harvey had the audacity to try and take Edwards’ hand into his own. Edward shot him an icy glare.

“I’m not here to make you feel better about your sorry arse. So tell me, Harvey, what do you want- what do you really want, apart from all these false niceties?” Harvey leaned back into his seat and looked around the visitor’s room. It was barely in use these days and looked even less well-cared for then the rest of the asylum.

“I miss you”, Harvey finally admitted, jaw clenched despite his effort to remain calm. “I’ve got all the things I’ve ever wanted now- except for you.” Edward sneered.

“I’m not some watch you get to collect at the pawn-shop whenever you feel like it. We’re done for good.”

“All I ask for is a second chance. Trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me.”

“I don’t need you, Harvey. And I most certainly don’t want you- especially not like this. Do you even realise how fucked up it is to see you all lawyer-y and handsome after spending years with the real you?”

“This is the real me.” Edward couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sure, if you want to keep lying to yourself…”

“Edward”, there was no anger in Harvey’s voice, just compassion. It made Edward’s skin crawl. “You don’t have to be stuck in this cycle forever. We could have a normal live. Together.”

“Next thing you’ll ask me to marry you”, Edward said mockingly. Harvey shrugged.

“Why not?” Edward jumped to his feet in dumbfounded terror.

“Out. Right now. This visit is over and we’re not going to talk about this ever again.”

Harvey’s try at redemption only lasted a couple of months and Edward only felt a very small amount of guilt for pushing him away like that.

 

**5.**

Nightwing’s kick caught Edward right in the chest. He hit the concrete with a pained groan. Exhaustion had crept into every corner of his body. Edward knew that he should get up and smirk and take this defeat with pride but lying on the ground and not worrying about any more pain felt really good right now. Nightwing crouched down beside him, head crooked a little.

"Are you okay?” Edward refused to open his eyes.

“Give me a moment”, he replied, too tired to get up. Nightwing laughed. It was a strange little sound. It always reminded Edward of those days when the boy had still worn the red and green.

“You’re getting old, Nygma.”

“Five years or so”, Edward snapped back, “And you too will know the joy that is middle age.” Cold metal clicked around his left wrist and he didn’t bother to protest when Nightwing straddled him and cuffed his other wrist as well.

“I’ll still be in far better physical shape then you ever were, Nygma.” The former boy-wonder teased. Edward felt the urge to protest, but Nightwing had a point. He opened his eyes, lips twitching into a cruel smile.

“That didn’t do the other Robin any good, did it now?” He had expected Nightwing to punch him in response or to haul him to his feet but all the young man did was stare at him, appalled. Edward shifted uncomfortably. Nightwing’s weight pressed painfully against his bruises. Finally, he averted his eyes. “I’m surprised you expected more tact.” He spat blood. “Evil, remember?” Nightwing leaned forward. Edward could feel each tiny movement. His rips throbbed were he’d been kicked.

“I’ve known you too long to take you seriously.” That stung even more then his hopefully not broken rips.

“Wow, that’s a low blow, kid, I’d expected more from you. Now, do you want to poke my wounds some more or will you finally get off of me now?” An apologetic look flashed over Nightwing’s face as he readjusted his position, taking pressure from Edward’s chest.

“Do you never get tired of this life?” He asked, out of nowhere. Edward froze.

“Oh please don’t lecture me I’m already suffering more then I could possibly deserve. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” And off to Arkham he went.

 

**+1**

His shaking fingers sought and found the painkillers which he swallowed without any water. A deep, exhausted breath escaped him as he let his head fall against the backrest of his office chair, waiting for the pills to kick in. They had told him that his memories might return bit by bit. So far, all he got was throbbing head-aches that came and went without warning. He had read up on his past, of course. What a life he had led! It seemed strange and twisted to him, like a dream you’ve had over and over as a child but could never quite make meaning of. According to his lawyers, amnesia was the best thing that could have happened to him. A clean slate, a fresh start… Strange, how they had looked at him, looked at him as though it had been quite the clever ruse. Of course Edward couldn’t complain, not really. It irked him immensely how much he’d forgotten but he quite enjoyed this life he had built himself since. Private detective, what fun!

The headaches were getting worse, though, and it didn’t help that people kept coming to his office just to stare at him knowingly and ask vague questions. Just the other week he’d had a visit from someone called Cobblepot (a well known mobster around these parts), flanked by sinister looking bodyguards, who had inspected Edward’s office with honest interest, declined the offered drink with a quirked eyebrow and wished him much luck in the future. It had taken Edward rather aback to have him come and go like this but he supposed he must have known the man once.

If this had been a sole incident, Edward wouldn’t have thought too much about it, but only a few days later, another man had appeared. The man hadn’t introduced himself but something about him seemed very familiar, almost intimate. He was tall and haggard, with thin lips and eyes that seemed to see right through you. The man had been quiet for a long while, just looking around the office and glancing at Edward from time to time. His shoulders and jaw seemed tense yet his voice sounded almost disinterested when he asked:

“Are you happy, Edward?” The question stirred something in Edward that he couldn’t quite pin down. There was a smell to the stranger that reminded him of something, a smell like straw and whiskey and something metallic, something chemical. Edward’s stomach fluttered a little and he could remember the feeling of long fingers touching his cheek. He blinked and cleared his throat and had to look away as he asked:

“I know you. _How_ do I know you?” When he turned to face the stranger again, he was gone. He hadn’t heard him leave.

The next to come had waited outside his office and addressed him from the shadows.

“You’re doing well, Eddie. Playing detective. Tell us – Do you really not remember?” The voice made Edward’s skin crawl and still there where shivers running down his spine. Yes, he’d definitely met this man before and if he could only see his features – for the man was hiding away in the shadows – he might actually remember… but the man took a step backwards as Edward tried to approach, and motioned for him to stop. “Ah, then it is true. Good luck then, Eddie, enjoy your stay on the side of the righteous.” With that, the man retreated and was never to be seen again.

Edward sighted as he thought about those recent events and rubbed his temples. This headache was killing him.

“Nygma.” Edward nearly jumped out of his chair as he heard the voice. He knew exactly who this was.

“Batman. And…” He nodded towards the other vigilante that stood next to the Bat. “Nightwing, I assume. What gives me the honour?” He flashed them a grin. It felt rehearsed yet familiar. He must have done this a lot, he realized, in the old days. The Bat didn’t answer but his companion shuffled a little, as if uncomfortable, and said:

“Just checking up on you, Nygma. Making sure you’re not up to something.” He shot a glance at his partner. “Not that there’s any reason to assume that you were up to something.” Edward leaned back in his chair and made a disapproving noise.

“Gentlemen, I’m led to believe that I was always very keen on leaving a trail whenever committing crimes. So if there is no explicit evidence leading you here I would appreciate it if you’d leave my office. Now.”

“Why this?” The Bat finally asked. “Why become a detective?” Nygma shrugged.

“I don’t know. It seemed fitting, I suppose. It calms certain urges and it pays very well. Now if you excuse me – not everyone can spend their time running around in spandex. Although I’m being told that I looked very dashing, back in the day.” The vigilante scoffed and turned away, heading, no doubt, for a dramatic exit through the window. Then, Edward thought of something:

“Wait. One question.” The Bat tensed and turned to face him. “Do you know someone, about your height, maybe a little taller but skinny as a reed? Brown hair, brown eyes… very intense stare – Southern accent.” For once, the vigilante seemed taken aback. Something seemed to work inside his skull, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shot a quick look to his partner who seemed even more uncomfortable.

“Uhm”, Nightwing began, “Well…” The Bat cut him off.

“Has he come to see you?” Edward’s lips twisted.

“I _do_ know him then. Come, on cat’s got your tongue?” The Bat shook his head ever so lightly.

“I shouldn't let you waste this chance.” Nygma blinked.

“Don’t be so dire. Why would I throw all this away? I'm quite content. What - or rather: who - could possibly tempt me to risk this?” Resolution settled on the Bats features and his voice was almost human as he said:

“That man was Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, and you’ve been very close.” It didn’t come back all at once. It was more like little flashes of memory; little puzzlepieces falling into place. He remembered whispered late-night confessions, stolen kisses and oh – there was that man, Crane, no, Jonathan, holding him close, rocking him gently through a panic attack. Long fingers rubbing circles into his back. The two of them back to back during a heist. In the get-away car. In the Batmobile. In Arkham, always Arkham. He felt guilty, so very guilty for not recognizing him when he’d come to see him. Guilty and stupid, and… his breathing hitched and he barely saw Nightwing take a step closer, clearly concerned. This was it then, he thought as he buried his face in his palms, trying to calm himself, yet unable to fight down his anxiety. It could have been nice, this other life. But oh, he remembered now, remembered the irony. He’d never really wanted to reform anyway. Except, deep down, he knew, that must have been a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to finish this for ages - so here we go. Got a ton of unfinished fics laying round but if you wanna shoot me a prompt go for it I like to suffer


End file.
